


The Lamootening

by sometimes (ace)



Series: The Lashootine Chronicles [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lamoot, het smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 08:36:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3058907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ace/pseuds/sometimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are you imagining her right now instead of me?" Lambert asked. </p><p>"What did I say about talking?" Root snapped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lamootening

Root entered the combination and stepped back as the vending machine swung open.

She walked down the stairs into the subway station and turned the corner, seeing Harold at his desk and Bear lounging by his feet.

"Hello, Harry."

His eyes swung towards her. "Ms. Groves," he greeted. "Are you- is that blood?"

"Just a graze." Root touched her arm absentmindedly. It was a shame too. She liked this leather jacket. "Do you know where—"

"Ms. Shaw retired to sleep an hour ago."

"Oh." She nodded, looking towards the partition where Shaw would be behind.

"I could wake her up, if you would like. I assume you require her medical attention?"

"No, it's okay, Harry. Let her rest." _She wouldn't be happy to see me anyway_ , Root thought privately. "I just came to drop these off."

Walking forward, she dropped the files she had stolen on behest of the Machine on Harold's desk.

"Oh, thank you!" He straightened as he saw the files. "This information is pertinent to saving our latest number. John, it appears we were mistaken."

He had turned back to his monitors, speaking into his earpiece urgently.

Root, seeing there wasn't much else she could do, took one look back at where Shaw was asleep and then quietly made her way out of the subway.

It was a Friday night and she had an itch to scratch.

* * *

"Fancy meeting you here." His British accent drifted over the bar's music to her ears.

Root took the seat next to him and stole the drink he had been nursing, downing it. He watched her with expectant eyes, smirking.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you sought me ought," he continued at her silence. "In which case, I'm honoured, Ms. Groves."

Root lowered the glass and licked her lips. "Where's Martine?" she asked, voice dancing at her name. Her eyes scanned the crowd.

Lambert laughed. "She found someone earlier to make her acquaintance with. Most likely out back in the alleyway."

"How… disappointing." She licked her lips. "Tonight could've been so much more _fun_."

"Oh, really?" he asked, shifting in his seat. His gaze fell down to her lips. "What did you have planned for tonight?"

Root smiled conspiratorially and stood up. "That's for me to know and for you to find out, Jeremy."

Mouth open as he watched her stride out of the bar, Lambert realised he wasn't following, quickly paid his tab (throwing more than enough cash at the bartender) and made his way out after her.

* * *

Root tugged on his tie, bringing him down onto the bed.

"Off," she said, gesturing to his trousers.

"As you wish."

He was painfully hard and Root was being rough with him. He took his trousers off and was about to remove his boxers too when Root's hand on his own stopped him.

"Later," she husked into his mouth and then flipped them over so she was straddling him. She was completely naked, unlike Lambert who still wore his tie and underwear at Root's demand.

And so Lambert could see the blood slowly trickling down Root's left arm from what looked like a bullet graze. He gazed questioningly up at her but she didn't satiate his curiosity, grinding down on him to distract him.

He groaned, thrusting up. "Bloody hell," he gasped, cursing whoever invented boxer shorts. He was straining hard and wanted to be in her, but their naked flesh was separated by them. Still, he could still feel her warmth and wetness through the soaked fabric.

"I'm looking for something," Root said, her voice tantalising. "Maybe you can help me find it."

She ground down again. Lambert groaned, his patience running out. He attempted to flip them over, wanted to rip off his underwear and sink down into her finally, only to have his arms yanked back.

Root had handcuffed both of his hands to the bed.

"You sneaky bitch," he gasped out and Root grinned at him.

"No need for name-calling." She leant down so her hard nipples brushed against his chest, her mouth inches away from his. Warm breath washed over his lips. "You should know by now to never let your guard down."

"Just _shag_ me already," he said, wanting release so badly. Wanted to feel Root's slick walls around his member.

"Straight away? Where's the fun in that?"

She shuffled down so she could reach down and grasp his dick, lowering his boxers in the process. Collecting the precum leaking out of his cockhead, she spread it up and down his member nice and slowly.

"Please…." Lambert's head fell back, eyes closing as he took in the sensations, hips thrusting up into her hand and wishing she could go faster. " _Root._ "

Root smirked. "Since you called me 'Root.'"

She lined him up at her entrance, and then sank down.

Just as her cochlear implant buzzed to life in her ear, the Machine connecting a call to her earpiece.

"Harold said you visited earlier and asked for me. What's up?"

It was Shaw. Root bit her lip when she recognised the speaker, her heart suddenly thudding much more loudly at the sound of her voice. The familiar thrill at doing something she knew she wasn't supposed to be doing bubbled up in her chest but she tapered it down. Meanwhile, her hand trailed down to her wet folds and parted them to rub her clit as she spoke to Shaw, unable to prevent herself from rocking slowly on Lambert's hard member as the woman's unexpected presence in the situation was turning her on.

"Hi, Sam," she said, slightly breathless. "I've got to be honest with you…" Lambert reached up to take a nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting lewdly and Root couldn't stop the sharp intake of breath she took. "Not a good time right now," she finished, suppressing a moan. With her other hand she pressed Lambert's head closer to her breast, which had the added benefit of making sure he couldn't speak.

"Why not? You okay?" Shaw demanded on the other end, and then seemed to realise what she just asked. "I mean, you're not in the middle of a gunfight or anything, are you? Because if you are, don't be stupid. I can call later."

"No. Not a gunfight." Her heart fluttered at Shaw's concern.

"Then what?"

Root's clenched around Lambert's dick and the man let out a loud moan into her breasts.

"Wait a second, was that- it was, wasn't it? _Ugh._ Gross, Root! Gross."

"Sorry, Sam," Root said, slowing down temporarily. "I tried to tell you."

Shaw let out a disbelieving, angry scoff and then hung up.

 _Beep._ The call was disconnected. Root released her hold on Lambert's head and the man drew back to breathe and ask a question.

"I assume you were speaking to Ms. Shaw?" he asked in the annoyingly attractive British accent. Root leant down to kiss him and he responded eagerly, hands yanking against the handcuffs as he tried once again to touch Root.

"This will go much better for the both of us if you refrain from talking so much," Root told him in lieu of confirming, drawing back.

"I'll take that as a yes… I wonder why you're not with her right now. From what Martine has told me, you two are quite a pair."

Root gazed down at him, contemplating giving him an answer and then figured it wouldn't do any harm. "She doesn't exactly like me right now," she explained, tilting her head to the side. "I broke her trust. Martine found her eventually anyway. I met you. Now we're fucking. Shaw has nothing to do with this."

"Are you sure about that? You've only gotten wetter the more you talk about her." He could feel her gushing fluids around his dick. The warmth and feeling of her around him was heaven as he stretched her open with every thrust in.

Root didn't reply verbally. She just closed her eyes and resumed their previous movements, slamming down particularly hard in response.

Lambert decided to push his luck. "Are you imagining her right now instead of me?" he asked, feeling her clench involuntarily around him in reply. He grinned to himself, knowing he was onto something. "Her fingers thrusting in and out of you, fucking you hard. Her thumb rubbing hard circles on your clit. Her naked breasts rubbing up against yours? You two would be quite a vision."

"What did I say about talking?" Root snapped but didn't do anything else to convince him to stop. She rode him faster, eyes shut tightly. The images he was painting appearing in her mind's eye, as well as all the details Lambert couldn't know, like the small ridged scar on Shaw's left hip, or the taste of her skin washing over her senses. (The rawness of Shaw's voice as she let Root's name come to fruition in the air, unwittingly letting Root know she was doing well.)

_Fuck._

Her thumb rubbed faster circles on her clit, her hips slapping down on Lambert's rising ones. He was full and thick inside of her, emanating his own heat, shuttling out his own fluids.

The head of his cock brushed against something inside of her that had her thighs trembling and caused her mouth to fall open. "Shaw!" In her mind's eye Shaw was leaning over her, her fingers buried deep inside of her, pressing up against that patch of skin inside her with every thrust in.

"Faster," Lambert gasped out and his distinctly male voice caused Root to cover his mouth with her hand.

"Shut up," she hissed.

She slammed down once more- twice- another time. Her breathing came fast and laboured, and then she was tensing all over. Coming. She crashed quickly down on the other side. Her walls pulsed periodically around Lambert's dick, who got in his final thrusts before he let go and emptied himself in her.

Root groaned, not removing herself just yet, her stomach feeling heavy. Womb sucking up his hot semen. The smell of their musk in the air.

"Wow," Lambert said.

Root climbed off of him silently. She found her clothes and started putting them on. "Thanks for that," she told him as she stood at the exit, smiling winningly at him with her hand on the doorknob. She shook out her messy hair, arranging it to be presentable again. "See you around. Actually, let's hope not," she amended thoughtfully. And then she left.

With wide eyes, Lambert realised he was still handcuffed to the bed. And better yet, there was a photo frame of a couple of strangers on the bedside table, and unfamiliar belongings spread about the room. Ones that, he realised now, weren't Root's, and belonged to these unsuspecting civilians' who would walk into their bedroom to find a debauched man wearing only a tie and boxers at his knees on their bed.

He let his head hang down.

"Oh, bollocks."

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 with Root and Shaw?


End file.
